


tattoo of my name

by deceptivesoldier



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Drunkenness, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:29:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deceptivesoldier/pseuds/deceptivesoldier
Summary: “People say not to get names tattooed on ‘em, but you’rehot,” Bucky informs him fervently, as though that bypasses the rule completely. Steve’s starting to giggle, but Bucky powers on. “It’s a win-win situation, y’see. You get ta look at my ass—which isstellar—and I get ta flirt.”Steve hums, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m not allowed to tattoo you while you’re drunk,” Bucky quickly starts to pout, “but if you still want my name tattooed on your ass in the morning, come back and we’ll talk, yeah?” Bucky brightens immediately, nodding furiously.“Okay! I’ll be thinking about fonts!”~*~or, Bucky shows up drunk to Steve's tattoo shop, asking him to tattoo his name on Bucky's ass





	tattoo of my name

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the prompt, "“You can’t get tattooed drunk, come back in the morning and if you still want my name on your ass we’ll talk.” from colormayfade's [ prompt generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator%22) and the egging on by Gerry and RJ. 
> 
> Speed betaed by [ urbanconstellations](https://archiveofourown.org/users/urbanconstellations) . you are the most swell.

Steve knows he’s in for a treat when a man comes stumbling drunk into the small tattoo shop. It isn’t even that which initially tips him off—it’s the fact that it took the guy a whopping seven minutes to figure out that the door was to be _pulled_ instead of _pushed_. Steve probably could have gotten up to go and help him in, but well. It’s been a slow night.

The man is tall, and _very_ well built. Clad in a pair of charcoal slim-fitting jeans and a black shirt, rumpled up at the hip. There’s also a wet stain from where Steve guesses he spilled a drink on himself, but Steve’s willing to look past that to save the guy’s image.

Though, there’s a high chance the guy’s going to ruin it himself given the fact that he’s just shown up drunk to a tattoo parlor.

“Hi!” he chirps with a grin, ultimately failing at a suave walk over to the front desk. Once at the counter, the guy takes a moment to find his balance again. Successful, he pushes strands of hair away from his face and leans forward. “I’d like a tattoo.”

Steve smirks. “Oh yeah? Here on a dare?” That’s typically how these things go—either a dare or through friends egging them on. The brunet seems lost in some sort of daze, because it takes him a moment before he realizes Steve asked him a question. He starts to huff, but it melds into a giggle. 

“My friends think I gotta have more _fun_ ‘cause I ‘work too much’,” he says, giving finger quotes to the last three words. “So I got drunk!”

Steve nods, bringing his feet onto the ground from where they were kicked up on the desk. “And you’re here for a tattoo. What’d ya have in mind?” Natasha would probably have his ass if she knew Steve was humoring the guy despite him being drunk, but it isn’t like Steve’s going to actually _do_ anything. Had the guy not come in, the only thing on Steve’s agenda for the night was going to be working on sketches.

The brunet tilts his head exaggeratedly, lips settling down into a smirk. “I think I wanna get _your_ name. What is yer name? Is it as pretty as you are?” Steve raises an eyebrow, because he sure as hell wasn’t expecting that.

“Steve. You gonna tell me yours?”

“Steve. Steven? _Stevie,_ ” he tests, nodding surely. Steve chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Your name is Steve? I thought that was my name.”

The man furrows his eyebrows, confused, until he realizes. “No! _My_ name isn’t Steve, silly. I’m _Bucky_ . You’re cute,” he states, the grin returning to his face in full force. “I want _Stevie_ as a tattoo.”

“Yeah? Where? Over your heart?” Steve plays, unable to help grinning back at him. Bucky shakes his head.

“No. On my ass.”

What.

Steve blinks and sits up in his chair, leaning in towards Bucky. A chuckle escapes his lips, because _that_ isn’t anything he’s heard before. “You want my name… tattooed on your ass?” Bucky nods happily.

“People say not to get names tattooed on ‘em, but you’re _hot_ ,” Bucky informs him fervently, as though that bypasses the rule completely. Steve’s starting to giggle, but Bucky powers on. “It’s a win-win situation, y’see. _You_ get ta look at my ass—which is _stellar_ —and _I_ get ta flirt.”  

Steve hums, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m not allowed to tattoo you while you’re drunk,” Bucky quickly starts to pout, “ _but_ if you still want my name tattooed on your ass in the morning, come back and we’ll talk, yeah?” Bucky brightens immediately, nodding furiously.

“Okay! I’ll be thinking about fonts!”

Once Steve gets a cab to take Bucky back to his apartment, he heads back into the shop to start working on his sketches for _work_ and _not_ sketching out the lips of a pretty brunet.

***

“I’m so bitter that I didn’t get to see any of this go down. I’ve never had anyone ask for _my_ name on their ass,” Natasha sighs. She rolls her chair on over to where Steve is working on finalizing a design for a client coming in this afternoon. “You think he’s gonna come back? What if he wants the tattoo?”

“He’s not gonna come back. There’s a solid chance he doesn’t even remember walking over here last night.”

Natasha huffs. “Okay, but if he _does_ come back, you gotta ask him out.”  

“Sure, Nat.”

In a moment of silence, Steve thinks the subject has finally died. That is, until Nat snatches his pile of sketches from the last night. The ones that definitely _don’t_ feature Bucky. Steve yelps, trying to grab at the papers, but Natasha rolls her chair away with a laugh.

“Damn, this guy is _hot_. You’ve got no excuse, Steven. He comes back and you ask him out,” she declares, holding up one of Bucky’s smirk. “You can’t let this jawline get away.”

“I’m ignoring you now. I’m _working_.”

They get a couple walk-ins, asking for small tattoos that don’t even take an hour. Steve’s sure he can tattoo the infinity symbol in his sleep at this point. The most notable guy that comes in that morning is a fresh 18-year-old, asking for a black and grey raincloud tattooed on his forehead. Neither Natasha nor Steve wanted to do it, because as she so eloquently said, it would look like a large turd leaking into his eyes, and that she didn’t want him to have to deal with the nickname Shithead for the rest of his life.

Other than that, the day proceeds as normal. Even though Steve was certain Bucky wasn’t going to come in, a small part of him is a bit disappointed anyway.

However, when Steve walks back in from grabbing dinner at the fast food joint down the block, he finds Natasha chatting with a familiar brunet.

“Steve! _Bucky_ here wanted to chat with you.” The man in question turns to Steve with a high flush on his cheeks, smiling shyly. Quite the contrast from the forwardness of last night, but no less charming.

“Hi,” he greets softly, and reaches a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “I, uh, wanted to apologize if I made you uncomfortable or anything last night. I was kinda drunk.”

Steve grins. “So you _don’t_ want me to tattoo my name on your ass, then? I was thinking _Comic Sans_ or _Helvetica_ would be good fonts.” Bucky barks a laugh, starting to blush more furiously in embarrassment. Natasha, because she’s a nosy shit, nods definitively at Bucky and mouths _‘ask him out’_.

“Comic Sans, oh god. Maybe not your name, but I’d like to consult with you about a different tattoo? It’s, uh, sleeve to make my left arm look… robotic.”

“Sure, we could talk over dinner?” Steve asks with a grin, holding up the bags of food. Natasha scowls at him, because that was supposed to be _her_ food. In his defense, she _did_ tell Steve to ask Bucky out. He’s simply following directions.

Bucky smiles lopsidedly at him, looking hopeful. “It’s a date? Or, er, it’s an appointment?”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head fondly and pulling Bucky into his office. “It’s a date.”

**EPILOGUE—Two Years Later**

It’s been _much_ too long since Steve’s had any alone time with his boyfriend. Over the past month he’s been out of town at a tattoo exhibition, and Bucky had to stay behind to work. So, by the time he gets back, Steve has _plans_.

He’s kissing sloppily at Bucky’s neck, nipping him occasionally. Bucky straddles Steve’s hips, turning his head so he can catch Steve’s lips in a kiss.

“Missed you,” Steve murmurs against his lips, pulling at the hem of Bucky’s shirt. Immediately getting the message, Bucky sheds his shirt, settling back onto his thighs to look down at Steve, whose gaze flitters to the silver sleeve tattoo on Bucky’s left arm. Of all the tattoos that Bucky’s acquired over the two years since they’ve met, that’s still Steve’s favorite—it’s the tattoo that took the longest, and the one he marked Bucky with. It isn’t his name on Bucky’s ass, but it’s _almost_ the same.

Which, by the way, is just as stellar as advertised.

Bucky grins, leaning back down with a grind of his hips. Steve’s hands find the hem of Bucky’s sweatpants and he slips them underneath the clothing. Bucky’s smirking mischievously, and before Steve can wonder why, he feels the familiar texture of a bandage on Bucky’s asscheek.

“Bucky?”

With the smirk still pulling at swollen lips, Bucky expertly turns them over so Steve is atop him. Taking the invitation, Steve slides Bucky’s sweatpants to his thighs. His eyes immediately find the bandage, which is covering an unmistakable tattoo.

_S.R._

“Holy shit. Did you get my _initials_ tattooed on your ass?” Bucky chuckles, turning his head as best as he can to look at Steve. He lets Steve stew for a moment, eyes still glued to the tattoo, before answering.

“That’s a temporary tattoo. But, you did say that we could talk about tattooing your name on my ass if I was sober, and here I am.”

Steve hums, pressing himself against Bucky’s back so he can nip at his boyfriend’s ear. “Good, I’d have been upset if someone else had done it.”

“I’m thinking you were right about _Comic Sans_ ,” Bucky muses.

***  


**Author's Note:**

> the story of Shithead is one my tattoo artist told me when i got my Cap tattoo last weekend. only, that guy actually got the tattoo. and yes, everyone in the tattoo shop calls him Shithead. 
> 
> it was really difficult not to die of laughter while i was in that chair.


End file.
